AND FOR ALL THIS, NATURE IS NEVER SPENT
–Gerard Manly Hopkins
My mother’s on the mountain,
a seventy-five year journey
joined to deadfalls and blowdowns –
the Romance of fallen trees.
The stuff of her, golden dust
in the candy jar that always held lemon drops,
flung to the breeze, lighting on
licorice ferns, salal and salmonberry,
frenetic fronds of fireweed.
Father followed a year later,
asked for the river, the alluvial fan
at the edge of the flats
around the islands and out to sea.
Flipping through field guides
and fingering topographical maps
I try to conjure them,
buds of the earth’s bounty
briefly grasped, and from a distance.
Michael Bonacci‘s collection of poems, The Former St. Christopher, won the 2004 Floating Bridge Chapbook Award. Michael.writes poetry, adapts historical documents for the stage, and is still shopping around that first novel hoping to find an agent who will bite. Artisan bread baking is another way to keep his hands busy, and now that his Japanese style landscape is maturing, he’s learning how to edit with pruning shears. He and his fiancé David Bricka, and their amazing wonder dog Buddy, live in Mount Vernon, WA.